Fight Fire with Fire
by Ingwerkatze
Summary: Lately Sherlock had developed a new annoying behaviour, well, it was not exactly annoying, rather it should be called irritating, very irritating. John tries to argue with him, which of course turns out to be a failed attempt, so the doctor settles for other methods. Author s Note: It s basically porn with plot.
1. Chapter 1

You know the games I play

And the words I say

When I want my own way

You know the lies I tell

When you've gone through hell

And I say I can't stay

You know how hard it can be

To keep believing in me

When everything and everyone

Becomes my enemy and when

There's nothing more you can do

I'm gonna blame it on you

It's not the way I want to be

I only hope that in the end you will see

It's the Opheliac in me

(Emilie Autumn- Opheliac)

Lately Sherlock had developed a new annoying behaviour, well, it was not exactly annoying, rather it should be called irritating, very irritating.

John had already gotten used to the, as he himself had labeled them, "sheet days", in which Sherlock the whole day wore nothing but a sheet. He and Lestrade had managed to adapt to those days pretty well, since John, when the time had come, sent a quick text to the DI saying "S.D." (abbreviation for "sheet day") in order to avoid that Lestrade would ask for help during investigations and that Sherlock thereafter would leave Baker Street and turn up at Scotland Yard or a crime scene wearing nothing but his beloved bedsheet.

But as mentioned before things had gotten out of hand and so John decided to confront his flatmate.

He went to the living room, slowly, thinking about how to start this delicate conversation. It couldn´t be said that John was of a shy character, afraid of confrontations, rather the contrary was the case, but still Sherlock constantly managed to catch him off guard, forcing him to deal with situations he had never found himself in.

"Sherlock", John started. "I do have to ask you a favor."

"No."

That response was so like him and John wasn´t even mad because he wouldn´t have expected anything else. Ignoring the answer, the doctor sat down, facing the other man, who was currently lying on the couch, his eyes closed, hands clasped, as he usually tended to do, when he was thinking (most likely about an experiment, John definitely wouldn´t be happy about).

"Could you, please, stop running around like that?" John made another polite attempt for a conversation.

"Like what?"

"Naked."

And that exactly was the problem.

It had started a few weeks ago, when John had come home and found his flatmate in the kitchen, poking holes into pig´s eyes, being completely naked. At first the doctor had thought the reason for this nudist appearance to be that Sherlock´s sheet had been in the laundry, but after some time John had no choice but to acknowledge, that the S.D. had become N.D. (abbreviation for "Nudist Days")

"Are you listening?" John got a bit annoyed being ignored like that.

With a sigh Sherlock sat up and leaned back into the couch, carefully observing the doctor´s expression, who was trying really, really hard to focus on his face and hide how nervous he was in that situation.

"Why should I? Getting dressed would require precious time I could use for something else, besides the whole idea that one must wear clothes to be socially accepted is idiotic."

He sounded like a rebellious teenager, John thought, not really someone anyone could argue with, but he wasn´t willing to give up that soon.

"Sherlock, it is really irritating."

His opposite raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands.

"You and your closeted bisexuality…"

John swallowed thickly.

"No, Sherlock, I won´t be discussing that with you again. I am straight, alright?"

"Why would you mind then?"

"Are you seriously asking that?"

"Obviously. If it is not for the sexual orientation crisis you are going through…" John wanted to protest, but Sherlock just kept on talking. "…the only other reason I could probably think of is the envy one male feels towards another one if he considers himself inferior when comparing the size of their primary sex characteristics…" Again John made the desperate attempt so say something, but again Sherlock ignored him as he continued to elaborate his theories. "… but you must be well aware of the fact, that this is nonsense, since you are slightly bigger than me, not much though, so…" This time John managed to interrupt.

"How the hell would you know?"

"You sometimes shower too long, so I just brush my teeth while you are in the bathroom."

"Sherlock! Do you know what "privacy" is?"

"An illusion."

John growled with anger and thought about just going to his room, before he would commit a felony, but then he reminded himself to stay calm.

"Listen, Sherlock. It can happen that I bring home a date and I really don´t want her to get the impression I am living together with a nudist."

"There are two reasons for you to bring home a woman. The first one is that you want to shag her and the second one is that you are planning on shagging her anytime soon, either way, she gets to see a penis soon enough."

"MY penis not yours, you dork. We have clients. People will start talking!"

Sherlock yawned and rolled himself on the couch again, stretching a bit. Since he was of a slender stature, his muscles tensed when he made that graceful movement.

John felt a familiar heat in his body, so he faced the floor, trying to get that image of his incredibly well built and beautiful flatmate stretching naked in front of him out of his head.

Not gay, he repeated over and over again.

"Do you consider it a threat to your masculinity, if people think, that you have an intimate relationship with another man?"

John raised his head, wanting to ask Sherlock, whether he had gone completly bonkers, but his words got stuck in his throat as he saw his flatmate lying on his side, his hip cocked.

"I am not going to discuss that with you", he said and rushed off.

John slammed the door to his room behind him and threw himself on the bed.

As he buried his face in his head he tried to think of something: cute kittens, dead kittens, anything would do, but Sherlock, but it was already too late.

The only thing he saw in his head was the other man, he with his alabaster skin, his dark curles and luscious lips, he tended to bite absent-minded when thinking about a case, lying on the couch, naked, in front of him.

Stop that, John told himself desperately, as he felt himself growing harder.

And now he pictured his flatmate, his male flatmate, lying under him, his long slender, but strong legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer with a whisper, with a silent moan.

He thought about how it would be like touching him, every lovely inch of that body, how Sherlock would sound like when he was close.

"Fuck", John growled as he reached inside his pants and grabbed his fully erect cock.

This is wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

We're high then we're low, first it's yes then it's no, and we're changing like the tides

Yeah, but I want you, I need you, and I guarantee you we'll make it out alive

'Cause I don't wanna fight no more,

Even when the waves get rough

I don't wanna see the day we say we've had enough

And I don't wanna fight this war

Bullets coming off our lips

But we stick to our guns and we love like battleships.

Like battleships.

(Daughtry- Battleships)

Yes, this is wrong, and you, John Hamish Watson have gone mad, the doctor told himself as he looked into the mirror. Probably it would be best to abandon the mission, he had been thinking about all night long, but this act of desperation was something, John hoped to work out.

Beating fire with fire it was.

He took a deep breath, before he made his way into the kitchen, where Sherlock was preparing some tea.

"Good morning. Care to make one for me too?"

The other man turned around with the intention to explain how much of a useless effort it would be for him since John could prepare one for himself easily, but the words got stuck in his mouth as he laid an eye on the man, who had just entered the kitchen.

"Sherlock, the kettle is ready", John said and sat down, trying hard to hide the successful grin on his face. It was the first (and probably the last time) he had managed to leave the other man speechless.

Sherlock swallowed and turned around and poured the boiling water into two cups and put a bag of tea in each before he handed one to John.

"You did actually make me tea?"

The detective nodded absent minded and sat down as well.

If Mrs. Hudson would have entered the apartment now, she would have needed more than the usual herbal soothers to calm her down.

The two men were sitting at the kitchen table, which was a mess as usual; there would have been nothing unusual except that the two of them were naked.

There were a few moments of silence, before Sherlock cleared his throat making an attempt to say something, but since he wasn´t able to form any other sound than a hoarse noise, he decided to take a nervous sip from his tea, which was far too hot.

He coughed a bit.

"Try not burning your mouth, I guess you will need it in future."

Sherlock coughed even more and stood up to drink some cold water from the tab.

John took advantage of the situation and risked a glance at the other man, a quick look surely wouldn´t hurt. He couldn´t help but to notice how perfectly shaped his bottom was, perfect in every damn way.

The doctor forced himself to look away, just in time before Sherlock turned around.

"Alright. Enlighten me."

"What do you mean?" John tried to sound indifferent.

Look at his face, look at his face, just at his face, nowhere else.

"I would really apprechiate if you wouldn´t attempt to make a fool out of me."

That is not his face!

"Frankly spoken, I have no idea what you are talking about." John purred with a content look on his face, since his plan obviously was working.

Sherlock sat down again, it seemed like he would have problems speaking any further, so it took a while, before he continued.

"I am pretty sure that you remember the discussion we had yesterday in which you confronted me with your disapproval of my decision not to wear any clothes in the flat…"

Obviously, John remembered.

"… and according to this very lately happening event, I would like to inquire you what this is about."

The doctor couldn´t help but notice the effort Sherlock used to make his words sound decent, so he decided to play as stubborn. Slowly he gained confidence I his plan, moreover he was solemnly thinking about teasing the other man even more to (at least for once) gain the success of having him caught speechless and off guard.

"You decided to be naked, I did as well."

Sherlock swallowed as his eyes wandered over the other man´s body and he couldn´t help but biting his lower lip. A few months after they had moved in together, John had made the decision to join a fitness center (probably to stay in shape to impress the boring women he used to date), which resulted in him being stupendously fit, even though he wasn´t a soldier anymore.

He took a moment to observe the movement of the doctor´s chest as he was breathing, to trace the line from his clavicles to his shoulders over to his arms and back to the fading but still visible scar where the bullet had hit him.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Hah?"

Sherlock was startled as John suddenly addressed him with his words and was instantly embarrassed about the sound he just had made, which had resembled rather a sigh than a question and about the fact that he had been staring at the other man with his mouth wide open.

"Ok, this is getting really weird." John took a sip of his tea and stood up to rinse the cup, he was well aware of Sherlock following him with his eyes.

All of a sudden the consulting detective stood up and left the kitchen and closed the door to his room, leaving the other man in surprise, yet he was content since his plan was obviously working.

Checking his schedule, John learned that he had to work on a late night shift tomorrow at Bart´s, which wasn´t something he was particularly happy about, since for him it meant to deal with a lot of drunk people, since the weekend was about to come.

He sat down in the living room and grabbed his laptop growling in disapproval since he discovered that Sherlock had been invading his privacy once again.

He thought about changing his password to prevent the other man from using his laptop, when his phone buzzed.

A message.

From Sherlock.

"You can as well talk to me, you dick, I am right here!", John yelled.

Another message.

"You are being fucking childish!"

His phone buzzed again.

For one moment John felt the strong desire to slam his phone on the floor, or on the wall, or in Sherlock´s face, since the other man knew damn well how much he hated to communicate via texting when both were in reach.

Swallowing his fury, he opened the messages.

"I would appreciate, since I am planning on performing an experiment, if you would wear clothes to eliminate the possibility/probability of me making a mistake due to the fact that I might not be able to concentrate properly.-SH"

"You owe your "swear/insult jar" a pound.-SH"

"Two pounds.-SH"

Since in the army John has gained quite a vocabulary, Sherlock one day had established the rule, that every time the doctor doesn´t watch his language, he had to put a pound in a jar, to which John took retaliation in the form that 221B soon after had gained another jar for Sherlock to be filled whenever he made a rude deduction.

They hadn´t decided what to do with the money once they were full yet.

John hissed and did as he was told.

"Done and no I won´t not unless you wear clothes as well.-JW"

He listened carefully and when he heard a grunting sound coming from Sherlock´s room, he had to do his best not to express his triumph.

"I think your monomania is to force me to wear clothes again by irritating me with nudity.-SH"

"Excellent deduction!" John said loud enough for Sherlock to hear.

"I don´t need your validation, I know that I am right.-SH"

John stood up and put another pound in his jar.

"Why did you do this?-SH"

"So that I can tell you that you are a fucking ignorant arsehole!" John replied. Spending a pound had never felt so satisfying.

"Besides, I won´t be willing to continue this conversation like that. Talk to me in person or get lost."

He sat down on the couch again and stared at his phone, expecting another message and thinking how many further insults he could afford.

Needless to say that he was very surprised, when suddenly Sherlock stepped out of his room to sit down in the living room as well.

"The method you are currently trying to reach your aim is not a fair one."

John raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"I am talking about the fact that I am not like you, and by that I am referring to your bisexuality that is still closeted."

Unfortunately John was out of pounds, so he had to swallow every insult currently sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"And could you please elaborate what the fudge you are talking about?", he hissed.

Sherlock leaned back and let out a sigh as if he was searching for the right words.

"You still consider yourself to be straight, even though I can´t help but noticing that you do observe me intensively, whereas I consider myself homosexual."

Now it was John´s turn to be surprised. Frankly spoken he had never thought about Sherlock´s sexuality, since when they first had met he had made it clear that he had no interest in neither a relationship nor intercourse since everything was about his work, but now a few things started to make actual sense, for example, that Sherlock knew only a little about the solar system, but could easily identify a gay man by his underwear.

"Oh. I had no idea…" That was all John could say.

"Obviously, since you moved in I haven´t gone on dates and I do not feel compelled to always give in to my libido as you tend to do it."

Sherlock was gay, that thought echoed in John´s mind and he suddenly had that picture he had imagined the night before in his mind.

He had probably done all these things with other men, shared these precious moments of passion with them.

John swallowed as he felt his blood rushing through his veins.

What would it be like, doing it with a man, Sherlock doing it with a man, with him?

"John, you…"

John suddenly was ripped out of his thoughts, it took him only a few seconds to discover why Sherlock was looking at him with a face he had never seen before and from which he was unable to determine what the other man was thinking.

He was hard as a prick.


	3. Chapter 3

Why?  
Why do you act so stupid?  
Why?  
You know that I'm always right

It looks like an early winter for us  
It hurts and I can't remember sunlight  
An early winter for us  
The leaves are changing color (for us)

And it gets too much, yeah, it gets so much…  
(Gwen Stefani- Early Winter)

"Shit", John blurted out and covered his face with his hands in shame. His whole body was shivering and he didn´t even dare to look at Sherlock, afraid what the other man might think. The doctor thought about what he could possibly say to explain or escape this situation when he felt a firm grip on his wrists.  
He didn´t even struggle when his hands were pulled aside.  
"John, look at me."  
He shook his head, biting his lips furiously to fight tears of rage and despair.  
Then something happened he would have never thought to happen and he needed a few seconds to realize that this was indeed real and not another trick his mind was playing on him.  
Sherlock bent forwards and pressed his mouth on John´s.

Things lately had gotten weird in 221B Baker Street and by weird one must mention that it has always been everything but ordinary and that the normal standard of strangeness must be considered mundane.  
John had somehow managed to escape the situation by jumping to his feet and running to his room, locking it, spending the rest of the day in it trying to focus on the skills he had learned in therapy to prevent him from experiencing a consecutive row of panic attacks, including amongst other things uncontrollable sobbing, severe tremor and shortage of breath.  
Somehow the day had passed and when he finally had come to the conclusion that he had to get dressed and to leave the room, he had found Sherlock covered in his sheet on the couch, sulking about boredom and being out of ammo.

They hadn´t been talking about what had happened, in fact, they hadn´t had a proper conversation in days, only small talk about who is making tea, doing the grocery shopping and about that experimenting in the kitchen was a no-go as well as leaving body parts next to the vegetables in the fridge.  
There wasn´t even an opportunity for conversing, since John had to work at Bart´s a lot and if he hadn´t he got himself something of importance to do. The rest of the time he spent either working out with an eager he had never had before in order to distract himself or in his room, leaving said place only when necessary.

When John came home on Saturday, he immediately received a text message, and even though he had a certain feeling that it meant no good, he still gave in to his curiosity.

"Would you like some tea?-SH"

He frowned and took a look around to discover that Sherlock was nowhere to be found, but he had to be somewhere near, how else would he be able to know that John had just entered the flat?

"Yes, please.-JW"  
With displease he noticed that as soon as the message has been sent, that familiar feeling of nervousness was spreading make in his chest and he forced himself to think of something else than being in one room with his flat mate.

"Marvelous, I would like some too. The usual.-SH"

Really?

John wasn´t sure about what he should be thinking or feeling right now. A part of him was incredibly annoyed about Sherlock still not being able to understand the basics of interpersonal communication and socially acceptable behavior and that every lecture John had tried to give him obviously was being ignored with scorn, but on the other hand he was relieved of having been able to avoid contact.

Still, he couldn´t resist the urge to slam his fist into the wall twice, regretting it immediately, since the pain went straight to his shoulder, leaving him breathless for a few seconds.  
As he made his way to the kitchen he couldn´t help but mumble to himself making use of the colorful vocabulary the army had taught him.

Something was not right.

Normal people would consider everything to be just fine, but John had given up on the thought and wish to be normal, so he was more than cautious as he walked through the dainty cleaned and tidied up kitchen to set up the kettle.  
Looking around torn between disbelief and awe he discovered a single envelope on the kitchen table with the inscription "For John" on it.

Breath slowly.  
Close your eyes and try with every breath to get rid of the tension, bit by bit, stay calm, John reminded himself and as the words were still echoing in his mind, he, ignoring his shaking hands, opened the letter and started to read.


End file.
